


Belonging

by antennapedia



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Collars, Dom!Clara, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, sub!twelve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6824689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antennapedia/pseuds/antennapedia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They visit the planet of the long-necked people and the Doctor's dignity is at stake now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belonging

**Author's Note:**

> Two related Tumblr prompt fills for public domming, and a vignette without any real conclusion, but I thought it might be relevant to some interests.

This area of the party, they explained, was for a particular sort of couple. Or group, they weren't fussy about number. They were fussy about the relationship. For a little (or for a lot) of the local currency, they could rent the equipment required to signal that relationship.

The smile on Clara's face almost frightened him. It did frighten him, and that had its usual consequence in his body.

"We won't be needing to rent anything," Clara said. She liked to carry his collar with her, just in case they got stuck somewhere without anything to do and he started to run mad. "Maybe one of the clothes lockers for later."

He went to his knees on her signal, right there in the middle of the throng, and clasped his hands behind his back. She buckled his collar on and fastened the chain to it. A tug and he was on his feet again, following her past the gates into the party that had so fascinated Clara from the outside. The sounds. The people. The things they were doing. The noises they made. The noises he would make before the night was out.

His collar was on and he was hard and everyone could see that he was hard because he was in snug trousers with no underpants and it was all right. He was supposed to be hard. He was supposed to have his hands behind his back and his eyes downcast and his lips parted. He was supposed to be breathing hard. He was hers and this was how she wanted him.

Everyone could see him. Everyone knew he belonged to her. He couldn't get past that thought.

"You okay?" she said. She caressed his face. "We can leave if this is too much. Go back to the karaoke place."

"No, this is good. This is-- it's good."

"Oh, you are amazing."

* * *

The collar fit perfectly around his neck. Just snug enough that he felt it; not so tight that he felt strangled. His job was to keep the chain leading her to her hand slack, while keeping his hands clasped behind his back. They walked slowly through this special part of the throng, looking at the people writhing together, human and not, of all the genders he'd seen in his lifetime and some more he wasn't sure about. The long-necked people were mostly humanoid, but they were more likely to be attendants at the party than participants: selling the oils, the toys, the bottles of liquor, the snacks roasted on spits.

Clara seemed content to watch and not join in. That was fine by him. He still couldn't get over it, the thought that everyone could see him like this. Anyone who looked could see the collar, the chain, his clasped hands, his hard prick in his trousers. He was hers. He belonged to her. Willingly. He was hers. He almost didn't care about what all those other people were doing, this knowledge burned him so hard.

She stopped at a little cafe, open to the night air, beside a play pit, and sat at a table. There were cushions on the ground, so he nudged one over to her chair with a toe and knelt down. He laid his head in her lap for a moment and received a caress. He sat up again and looked at her. She was smiling and flushed. Having a good time, a little turned on, then.

She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. "How are you doing?" she said. She was holding his gaze, and that meant had to answer honestly. That was another thing she required.

"Okay, I think. Less embarrassed than I might have thought. Got more clothes on than that fellow over there."

Clara looked where he was looking and her lips pursed in appreciation. The fellow over there was also muscular, which was Clara's type normally. When she wasn't inexplicably taking him to bed. Sparkling-eyed witty women, muscular men, and him: Clara's partners.

"I like his cage," Clara said. "Do you like it?"

That was one of her dangerous questions. The Doctor looked, turned over his answer carefully, then said, "It seems impractical. All those thorns look good, but his mistress can't touch him." He liked being touched by Clara, so this sort of thing mattered to him.

"Yeah, suppose you're right. Still it's very pretty all trussed up like that."

"Very pretty," he echoed. "There'll be something like it in leather at the shop to your left."

Now that was dangerous indeed, because he'd just as good as begged her for it, and the next thing that would happen would be that he would be wearing that and no much more, but the envy on Clara's face and been unmistakeable. And he did live to serve her.


End file.
